


The Hunger Games: Aberdeen Rewritten

by orphan_account



Series: Aberdeen Rewritten [1]
Category: The Hunger Games (Books), The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Book-Canon, Brief Jealousy, F/M, First Hunger games, Movie details, POV Katniss Everdeen, POV Third Person, Rewrite, Same events, Slight Hayniss/Aberdeen implication, Slight alteration, Suzanne Collins, the hunger games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everlark. Everthorne. The Hunger Games, both in book and in movie, had us focused on two possibly canon relationships. Then, finally, at the end, the finality of Everlark had plenty of fans satisfied. But what about Haymitch's and Katniss's relationship, always overshadowed and overlooked? What if things had been just slightly different? What if we just looked past the wall of canon, delving deeper into the character's actions? What if Haymitch was more than a mentor? What if Katniss was more than a trainee?<br/>What if Aberdeen was real, if just for a moment?</p><p>Written in 3rd person POV, following Katniss's thoughts and actions. Basically all of the Haymitch/Katniss scenes in 'The Hunger Games' book (omit the one brief reference to Haymitch's name), rewritten with a slight Aberdeen view and basic alterations to certain events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunger Games: Aberdeen Rewritten

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really ship Aberdeen more as it's my BROTP. I love their father/daughter relationship to death. I guess I ship Everlark, but while watching The Hunger Games the other morning, I felt the need to write this. The Haymitch/Katniss scenes in both the 'Catching Fire' and 'Mockingjay' books will follow in the next week or so. Since I'm really just adding onto pre-written scenes, there wasn't room for much fluff, but I did my best. However, there are definitely implications of a growing, if not faint romance. If this ship isn't your cup of tea, really, I see no reason you should read on.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I pretend to own any storyline or character of The Hunger Games series. All characters, scenes, settings, etc. belong to solely Suzanne Collins and her team. The entirety of the content in this work was inspired by Suzanne Collins and her book. 
> 
> Note: Because this is written in present tense, something I'm not used to whatsoever, there may be times where I accidentally switch to past tense. It has been lightly edited, but that in no circumstance means that I corrected everything. Please let me know in the comments if I missed something.

"I volunteer!"  
The hoarse scream echoes across the silent square, the only other sound being Prim's wail of surprise and the choked sobs. Katniss shoves past the Peacekeepers that try to hold her back, her defiant, flashing grey eyes hiding the fear deep within as she steps forward and shouts, "I volunteer as tribute!"  
Effie's saying something. So is the mayor. But all Katniss can hear is Prim screaming hysterically behind her, grasping frantically at Katniss's sky-blue dress and sobbing as she insists that Katniss stay in a voice so high and terrified that it threatens to break Katniss's heart.  
"Let go," Katniss demands, her voice wavering. She isn't sure what is weaker, the sound that had come out of her mouth or her knees. But for Prim's sake, for her own sake, she must commandeer a steadfast, iron strength of character. "Let go!"  
She turns to see Gale lifting Prim from where her arms are practically strangling Katniss's waist, muttering, "Up you go, Catnip," trying to restrain the violently squirming girl in his arms.  
Katniss locks eyes with him, two panic-stricken Seam eyes alone together in grief for one second, and then Gale whirls around into the throngs of the startled crowd of District 12 before he can break down.  
Effie's saying something else, like asking Katniss's name. "Katniss Everdeen," fills the square.  
"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?" says Effie in that ever-bubbly, heavily accented voice of hers. Clapping her hands, she calls out, "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"  
The implication that Katniss only volunteered to outshine her younger sister that she drew from Effie's words makes her so sick and so furious that she almost corrects Effie when she's distracted by the heavy silence that continues on, only disturbed by the one pair of hands trying to incite a similar action to her right. No one claps, no one cheers, no one shows any sign of praise...until one person touches their fingers to their lips and holds up a three-fingered gesture towards Katniss. Soon enough the whole square is doing it, and that's when Katniss nearly sheds a tear she had for so long been denying.  
And then someone comes stumbling out. Katniss blinks, startled, as the drunkard staggers across the stage in her and Effie's direction. Katniss has just enough time to register the ragged carob hair and clouded storm-grey eyes before there's a heavy arm slung around her shoulder, pulling her into a body that reeked of alcohol and unwashed clothes. "Look at her," Haymitch bellows, leaning on Katniss for support. His surprising strength keeps her from twisting away in disgust, and it's all she can do to keep the man from completely falling on her. "Look at this one! I like her!"  
His breath sends such a thick cloud of the fumes of liquor that Katniss nearly passes out. He glances at her, and from the angle that he was holding Katniss, with her arm and her left thigh pressed against his chest and legs, she really has no choice but to meet Haymitch's slightly distorted eyes. "Lots of..." His voice trails off as he trips a bit, and there's now three-fourths of his weight relying on Katniss. She tries to push him away as he keeps searching for a word, taking nearly ten seconds before he blurts out at last, victorious, "Spunk! Lots of spunk!"   
At last he releases the girl, who nearly falls over when the weight is gone. Haymitch begins dancing around the stage, pointing at the crowd, at Effie, at the cameras. "More than you! More than you!"  
Katniss supposes she should take Haymitch's drunken words as a compliment. Spunk. She'd never been called spunky before. Quiet. Reserved. Fierce. Careful. Learned. Maybe even rude. Depending on the person, she's been called plenty of things. But never someone with 'spunk'. However, her moment of privacy with everyone's eyes directed on Haymitch is cut short when the wasted Victor trips over the edge of the stage and plummets to the ground, unconscious.

 

***

 

It was quite wonderful to relive that same event once again as Katniss, Peeta, and Effie sat in the train car, watching the Reaping recaps. They just had to disrupt the respect and emotion stemming from District 12's gesture of farewell with Haymitch's beautiful swan-dive off the edge of the stage. Effie gives a little huff of displeasure at the sight, though whether it was Haymitch's fall or the way she looked in the broadcast, Katniss didn't know. "Your mentor," Effie grumbles, the Capitol accent making her voice sound even more annoyed than it was, "has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."  
Katniss can't help but smirk as Peeta laughs unexpectedly, snorting, "He was drunk. He's drunk every year."  
"Every day," Katniss has to add, remembering the heavy smell of his breath. She had been left feeling quite disgruntled after Haymitch's subconscious embrace, and she felt the need to get back at him. Starting with correcting Effie's watered-down version of the drunk.  
Effie is not amused. She hisses, "Yes. How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games."  
My life is going to be awfully short, Katniss thinks.  
"The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be difference between your life and your death!"  
Once again, before Katniss can say yet another thing to Effie, something probably really smart and sarcastic like how Haymitch is already making her life feel like death, she is interrupted by Haymitch, making a delightful entrance into the car, announcing his presents with a loud belch. "I miss supper?" he questions, words slurring together. Then he convulses and vomits onto the carpet before falling into the mess.  
Katniss looks up at Effie, expecting to hear something about how the value of the carpet has now been lowered, but she just gives all of them a very irritated look and says exasperatedly, "So laugh away!" before stepping gingerly around Haymitch and disappearing.  
Katniss and Peeta exchange a glance as Haymitch tries to get up from the pool of bile, and the girl wrinkles her nose as the stench begins to lazily float towards them. She was about to lose her own dinner at this point. But she feels some inclination to help him up, so she and Peeta move in unison towards their soiled mentor.  
Katniss grips Haymitch's shoulder, thankfully untouched by the chunky liquid, and helps him find his balance as he asks, "I tripped?" Then, more thoughtfully, he remarks, "Smells bad."  
Wrenching his hand away from Peeta, he wipes his hand on his nose, smearing his face with the vomit. Katniss's stomach actually lurches.  
"Let's get you back to your room. Clean you up a bit," Peeta says, and Katniss really does wish she could be as far away from this man as the sun was from Earth.  
The tributes lead Haymitch back down to his compartment unsteadily. To Katniss's surprise, his quarters are actually in decent shape, but that's probably only because he hasn't found enough time to gather enough bottles or use enough laundry up to soil the Capitol luxury. He has, however, already flooded the room with the stench of spirits.   
Katniss hesitates, unsure of whether she should stay or leave. On one hand, she really didn't want to strip Haymitch down, stick him in the shower, and then personally wash his body down. On the other hand, something small inside of her really wanted to make a good impression on this man, to make him like her. It was probably her selfish side, since, after all, there could only be one Victor, right?  
Luckily, Peeta makes the decision for her. "It's okay. I'll take it from here," he assures her.  
Katniss nods gratefully, easily convinced that that was the correct decision. "Alright. I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."  
"No," Peeta responds, a little too quickly in Katniss's opnion. "I don't want them."  
Katniss pauses for a second, realizing she's trying to analyze Peeta's words, but then she realizes it's pointless and will do nothing but confuse her. So then she settles on nodding and heading back to her room. That's when it hits her. Peeta's being kind. And that's dangerous. The baker's boy, weaving and inching his way into Katniss's heart. She'll have none of that, she promises herself. Nothing to do with the baker's boy, nothing to do with his cookies and bread, nothing to do with his acts of kindness towards her.  
She begins to wish she had stayed to wash Haymitch.

 

***

 

Katniss wakes up to Effie, which isn't at all a welcome alarm, especially when she chirps far too cheerfully, "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" She really did remind Katniss of a hyperactive jabberjay. Or a colorful parrot.  
Katniss grumbles under her breath as she puts on her crumpled green outfit from the night before and keeps her hair in the elaborate braid her mother did for the reaping. A little touch of home, along with that mockingjay pin that Madge gave her. It soothes her as she enters the dining car, where Haymitch, Peeta, and Effie, who is sipping pitch-black coffee from a mug. As if she needed caffeine.   
Then Katniss notices the expressions on Haymitch's and Peeta's faces. It couldn't have all meant anything too special or extraordinary, but it very much bothers Katniss in that unsettling way, like that feeling a cat would get if its fur is being brushed the wrong way. Haymitch's face is a crimson color, puffy and tired, presumably from the liquor he drank yesterday. However, he is chuckling. And that really screws with Katniss's mind, especially when she sees that Peeta is absentmindedly rolling a bread roll between his fingers, a look of embarrassment plastered on his slight vermillion face.  
Katniss freezes for a moment, eyes flicking from between Haymitch and Peeta. Though it is just for a split second, a dirty thought crosses her mind. Fortunately she is able to dismiss it the instant she realizes what it was, but the damage is done. Now she's thinking about the night before, when she left Peeta to give Haymitch a shower. Now she really, really wishes she stayed with the men.  
"Sit down, sit down," Haymitch says, interrupting Katniss's tortured thoughts. Slowly Katniss moves over to the table, frowning, eyebrows pushed together. Thankfully the others take it to be her normal hostile behavior, and they don't question it. Although Haymitch does toss her a raised eyebrow. Still, he doesn't say anything.   
Breakfast passes quietly, and Peeta introduces Katniss to a warm, rich and sweet drink called hot chocolate. Soon enough she fills her stomach up to the point where it feels like it will split, eggs and bacon and orange juice occupying the space within her. She sits back and takes in her surroundings, eyes resting on her companions in turn. Somewhat startlingly, her eyes linger on Haymitch for a few seconds longer than everyone else, just enough to register the bottle of red juice mixed with a heavy dose of spirits that he's guzzling from. Not a single pastry or potato has been touched.  
That's when Katniss begins to feel a ball of annoyance and hatred begin to burn in her gut for this drunkard. He's the root of why no one from District 12 wins. He's simply unlikeable, detestable. Who wants to strike a deal with someone who loves his bottles more than a living person? No one, that's who. Sponsors were probably the least of his worries, and that hurt Katniss. It hurt that Haymitch clearly didn't give a damn about either of them. It hurt that whether she lived or died didn't matter to him, other than the fact that he can't benefit from her winnings if she's killed. It hurt that he would pay more attention to the drink in his hand than their faces. It hurt that he couldn't care less about Katniss than he did already.  
And she didn't know what she hated more, the fact that Haymitch hurt her, or the fact that Haymitch had the ability to hurt her, because she believed she fully reciprocated his feelings.  
"So," Katniss begins, voice venemous, "you're supposed to give us advice." She gives him a hard look.  
Haymitch looks up from his drink, wipes his mouth, and takes a deep breath. "Here's some advice." He pauses for a dramatic effect that no one finds and then finishes, "Stay alive." He bursts out laughing as if he just shared the funniest joke in the universe, not even remotely caring that none of them join in.   
Forgetting she's supposed to stay far away from him, Katniss glances at Peeta just in time to see him snap, "That's very funny," and then lash out at the glass. Katniss's wide eyes follows the glass goblet as it flies from Haymitch's hand through the air and shatters on the ground, bloodred liquid staining the floor. "Only not to us."  
The silence is deafening, and Katniss holds her breath as she regards Haymitch. He appears to be considering Peeta's words, but there's a deadly light shining in the back of his eyes that makes Katniss want to spring forward and hold him down. Just as she reaches out, Haymitch lunges forward and socks Peeta square in the jaw, sending him flying from his chair. The man turns back to reach for the bottle of spirits sitting on the table, but Katniss is faster, grabbing her knife from the table and driving it into the table between his middle and ring finger. Haymitch looks up, eyes startled and angry, giving her the idea that he was just as surprised about the concise, calculated movement as Katniss was.  
"Well, what's this?" Haymitch says, slowly nodding. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"  
A biting retort rises up on Katniss's tongue, but she can't find the capacity to say it. She has a feeling it'd probably be something along the lines of her insisting that he pay attention to them, to her, to Peeta. She'd probably end up flat out asking him to care about her enough to keep her alive, and she knew how foolish that would sound.   
Katniss is distracted by Peeta rising from the floor and scooping a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen, beginning to raise it to his reddening jaw. Katniss winces at the mark, hating Haymitch more than ever. The person in question raises a hand and stops Peeta, arguing, "No. Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."  
Being the ever-so righteous man he is, Peeta points out, "That's against the rules."  
"Only if they catch you," Haymitch fires back. "That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." Katniss, still fuming, looks at him as he turns toward her and meets his eyes -- an exact replica of her own, although his were much older and more ruined, psychologically and emotionally. It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"  
The need to display her worth floods through Katniss, and she picks up her knife without a word, despising herself when she catches herself anxious to please Haymitch. That wasn't a desire she wanted to have.   
Getting a grip on the handle, Katniss hurls the knife across the room, praying that it would get a good stick. It did even better, lodging itself between two panels like she was aiming for that. Good. Now she looks even better.   
Haymitch doesn't look explicitly pleased, but he's nodding appreciatively. "Stand over here. Both of you."  
Katniss joins Peeta in the center of the car, her eyes following Haymitch as he circles them. Her heart jumps every time he touches her, sometimes poking her biceps, testing her muscles, or rubbing her calves or thighs. The caresses really do something to her, and once again she got that wrong feeling. She sees Peeta watching them with deeply speculating eyes, especially when Haymitch runs a hand down Katniss's side, presumably feeling for ribs and checking to see how firm her torso was. No matter what the intention was, Katniss feels far too vulnerable for her liking. And yet, she doesn't flinch away from the prying hand.  
He checks Peeta too, and then the neutral feeling evolves into that odd one she got when her eyes rested upon the men at the beginning of breakfast. Katniss still doesn't understand it, but she doesn't realize she is scowling when she watches Haymitch prod Peeta in the same places he touched her, until she runs a hand over her own forehead and feels the wrinkles. Effie won't be very happy if she gets wrinkles at her age.  
"Well," Haymitch says, backing away from the silent tributes, rubbing his caloused hands together, "you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."  
Katniss doesn't question it, and neither does Peeta. What she does do is bite down on her tongue, because she's about to shout at Haymitch for implying she wasn't already attractive. It helps to keep quiet when she wonders why it matters to her.   
Haymitch keeps talking thoughtfully. "All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking --" Katniss is given a meaningful look that makes her glare back defiantly, "and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say."  
Katniss can't help but look up at Peeta for confirmation. Even when she's trying to hold herself at a distance, her natural instinct is to look at him for guidance. Which is funny, because she's gone by her own rules for her entire life. But here in the train, heading towards their deaths in the Capitol, Peeta was all the guidance she has. Katniss doesn't trust Haymitch to be much help.  
"Fine," sighs Peeta, not even trying to ask for any thing more.  
Katniss feels that she should say something. "So help us," she implores, crossing her arms. "When we get into the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone -- "  
"One thing at a time," interrupts Haymitch. "In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist." His last words were definitely aimed towards Katniss, just as his deal was. It made Katniss curious if any of his other actions would be defined by her actions.  
"But --" says Katniss, her rebellious side getting the best of her.  
"No buts. Don't resist," reminds Haymitch. He takes a second to hold a stare-down with Katniss, and when she looks away, unable to hold his gaze, he takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. Katniss finds herself staring after him as the door swings shut.

 

***

 

Her body is buzzing with the thrill of the Tribute Parade. The fire that had blazed over her dress and headdress, a blaze that perfectly matches the ambition in her heart, had lent her some kind of energy that was probably equal to the adrenaline Haymitch drew from his alcohol. She's so caught up with the excitement that she hardly realizes how quickly she's scarfing down her dinner. Effie has not said a word about her poor manners, but Katniss is sure that she would have been rebuked already had Cinna and Portia not been present. Haymitch had showed up as the dinner was being served. Katniss looked at him as he entered, stunned when she saw a decent, mildly handsome man looking sober and clean instead of a soiled addict.  
Now she's looking up at him again, halfway through her wine, wondering how he could manage to drink such strong substance multiple times every day of his life with his liver still functioning after all this time. Right now his eyes are fixed on an unopened bottle of spirits like a preying cat, and Katniss is sure he's about to spring for it. Her head is beginning to feel foggy and Haymitch's face keeps distorting. His jawline seems to get both thinner and broader alternatively, and sometimes his eyes take on a curious blue hue, and it almost sends Katniss off edge because there are times when he looks as pretty as Peeta. It's so distracting that she rips her eyes from her mentor to look at the cake, which was burning at the edges. A few seconds later, the flames died down to end the warm spectacle.  
"What makes it burn?" Katniss is a little disheartened to hear the whisper of a slur in her voice. "Is it alcohol? That's the last thing I wa -- oh! I know you!" Her eyes take in the servant girl who had set the cake, matching her face to an old memory of hers. A look of terror crosses the servant's face as she shakes her head quickly and scampers away from the table like a scarlet-haired mouse.  
Puzzled, Katniss looks up at the adults, finding four bewildered faces staring down at her. Effie rolls her eyes and scoffs, "Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? Oh, the very thought!"  
Blush rises to Katniss's cheeks, and she finds herself flicking her gaze to Haymitch's face, who looks as confused and concerned as Effie. She suddenly feels very awkward and asks dumbly, "What's an Avox?"  
Haymitch responds, to Katniss's shame. "Someone who commited a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak. She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."  
Katniss takes his words a lot better than he probably meant it. She knows Haymitch simply means that because of her sheltered bubble in District 12, the odds of her knowing an...an Avox, as Effie calls her, are very low. But the odds were anything but in her favor, and Katniss did know her. But the way she takes Haymitch's statement is that she's far too innocent and pure to know a traitor, an odd compliment directed at her. It makes Katniss feel so young and protected and good that she's glad that Effie's reedy Capitol voice cuts in. "And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's an order. Of course, you don't really know her."  
How nice of Effie to give her the benefit of the doubt, to cast her as innocent. But the memory is front and present now, reminding Katniss of how she and Gale had been in the woods and been presented with a chance to save the lives of a boy and a girl. But because of their refusal to do anything, to risk their own lives, the boy was killed and the girl's tongue mutilated, standing before Katniss now as a slave. She knows the alcohol's affecting her brain, but the only thing from admitting everything was Haymitch's previous comment. "No, I guess not, I just -- "  
"Delly Cartwright," Peeta intervenes, snapping his fingers like he's had a revelation. "That's who it is. I kept thinking she look familiar as well. Then I realize she's a dead ringer for Delly."  
Katniss is so grateful to Peeta, and she wishes she could make everything bad she'd ever said or done to him up. Haymitch is looking at them both, as if he knows exactly what's going on but doesn't dare say a word. That makes Katniss thankful for him too.  
Disgusting.

 

***

 

They meet Haymitch once again at breakfast the next morning. "So, let's get down to business," he says after several platters of stew. In Katniss's mind, it's a wonderful thing that he's eating rather than drinking. Perhaps he was going to keep his deal to stay sober. "Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."  
Katniss and Peeta turn down the offer to be coached separately. Then the conversation takes an odd turn as Peeta begins to fill Haymitch in on Katniss's talent. For some reason that ticks her off, although there's a sort of warmth that rises in her because she knows that now Haymitch is beginning to understand how special she truly could be. Of course, she returns her part in the heated argument and explains to Haymitch how strong Peeta is. Their voices raise in anger as they shoot words back and forth, countering each other. Haymitch is silent, drinking in the pointless conversation until finally Katniss ceases to speak after Peeta rolls his eyes towards Haymitch and mutters, "She has no idea. The effect she can have."  
Katniss's eyes enlarge as she stares at Peeta, then at Haymitch, and then Peeta again. She's sure Peeta is trying to insult her, saying that she draws sympathy rather than admiration from the crowd. That makes her chest harden with rage. She doesn't need admiration. She doesn't need sympathy. She doesn't need love. Of course, that's where she's wrong, and she knows it, because sponsors -- or, she's sure she really means the lack of them -- will be the final word in your fate in the arena.  
Haymitch is looking at her, musing, "Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee they'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"  
Katniss thinks of Gale again, which sends a stinging pang carving like a knife into her heart. "I know a few basic snares." Thanks to Gale. Then she looks up at Haymitch, concentrates on the little brown stubble on his chin and the newly tangled waves that hang over his ears like a muddy waterfall, and her mind clears.  
"That may be significant in terms of food," approves Haymitch. He looks at Peeta, discipline in his eyes, and Katniss can't help but smile triumphantly. "And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"   
When Peeta and Katniss nod, Haymitch gives the girl a curious, unreadable look before continuing, his voice sterner than normal, "One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute."  
Katniss shoots up, finger pointed and levelled at Haymitch's chest, halfway through her first word of protest when Haymitch slams his hand on the table, silencing Katniss with the sharp sound. "Every minute!" yells Haymitch. "You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."  
Katniss doesn't even look at Peeta. She just glowers at Haymitch, breathing heavily. Haymitch gazes back, unwavering. It's scary how well Katniss knows what he's thinking, and she's certain that her mind is being probed by her mentor at that moment. No matter how much they hate each other -- at least, Katniss is pretty sure they do -- there'll always be that mutual understanding that no matter how much Haymitch prefers Peeta over Katniss, Peeta will never truly understand Katniss the way that Haymitch does. The chemistry between two Seam children cannot be reciprocated by anyone, especially by someone who had lived in the wealthier, merchant's class part of the District.  
Katniss whirls around after that depressing train of thought, unwilling to speak. She stomps back into her room and pulls the door shut, not even acknowledging the small feeling that she shouldn't have left Haymitch and Peeta alone. They're probably talking about her now, her firm choice to disregard everything Haymitch says. And even Katniss doesn't understand why she's so against pretending that she and Peeta are best friends forever. The best way she can describe it is it being like a dagger poking at the most sensitive parts of her soul and mind, unwelcome and unable to recieve hospitality. It was just the cards she was given. They didn't allow her to form a true friendship with Peeta, at least, not now. Katniss doesn't understand it. But she is sure of one thing. It's that somehow, Haymitch is part of it.

 

***

 

Her hands are still shaking. She doesn't want to show it, but she's downright terrified of how the Gamemakers will respond to her private showing. It wasn't so much the fact that she attacked them. In fact, Katniss was sure she'd be bragging about that for as long as she lived. It was that somehow, she felt like she'd be letting the people closest to her down. Prim and her mother. Gale. They expected so much of her. She's also curiously against disappointing her and Peeta's stylists. Hell, she's afraid of disappointing Haymitch. And Haymitch, being the infuriatingly empathetic Seam man he is, recognizes Katniss's uncharacteristically long silence and quiet, short responses to every remark directed at her. It was easy to, since he was sitting right beside her. As the main meal is being served, Katniss grimaces when she hears Haymitch say out of the blue, "Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?"  
Katniss fiddles with her hand as Peeta answers first. "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think," he adds with a look towards Haymitch, who is smiling despite the seriousness of the matter. "So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."  
Katniss's heart was a little lightened, comforted by the fact that she wasn't the only one ignored. Then Haymitch regards her. "And you, sweetheart?"  
That one pet name gives her two very different emotions. One side of her is so disgusted and pissed and furious that her mentor would even dare label her with a name such as that that she tenses up, knuckles white as her finger curl into a fist. But there's a small fraction of her body that seems to lose half its density, like she left some important organ back in her room. No one had ever called her sweetheart. Forget Peeta. She was still a little sick of her fellow tribute. Her mom rarely spoke to her, let alone assign her loving nicknames. Prim didn't have the audacity to call her older sister that. Gale called her Catnip, sure, but it was always a teasing light behind it. That is what kept the good feeling at bay. Maybe, just maybe, if the circumstance was different, if more time had passed, and Haymitch was gentler and more affectionate with the name, then Katniss would have accepted it. But it was meant to be dry and meaningless, and Katniss hates it. "I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers," she says matter-of-factly, turning her head away.  
Everything goes silent. Cinna drops his fork. Effie nearly spills her drink all over her brightly colored outfit as she exclaims, appalled, "You what?"  
Defenses rising in less than a second, Katniss protests, "I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just...I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!"  
Cinna's golden eyeliner glitters in the light as he blinks slowly. "And what did they say?"  
Words tumble out of her mouth in an attempt to make the situation sound better than it was. "Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that," mumbles Katniss.  
Effie's voice sounds like someone had just tilted her wig a couple degrees to the right, which was probably a disaster of equal measure in her eyes. "Without being dismissed?"  
"I dismissed myself." Katniss throat feels like someone had just shoved a bucket of coal down it, knowing she could have very well doomed Prim and her mother and Gale. She wasn't so oblivious that she didn't know what the Capitol might do to the loved one of tributes who failed them.  
She looks over at Haymitch, worried that he's going to say something awful. However, he just raises his eyebrow, lets out a little sigh, and shrugs, "Well, that's that." He then proceeds to butter a bread roll, his jaw set as he focuses on guiding the blade across the rough ends.  
Incredulous, Katniss asks worriedly, "Do you think they'll arrest me?"  
Haymitch gives her a lopsided grin. "Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage."  
"What about my family? Will they punish them?" Prim was the one on her mind right now. If Katniss couldn't live a full life, then she at least wanted her little sister to.  
Haymitch hesitated, and then suddenly there's a tender hand brushing against her thigh. Katniss stiffens as Haymitch's hand slides over her leg and stays there, very tense and uncertain, as if he's sure she's going to slap him. But she doesn't move, trying to keep her mind on the problem at hand. She tells herself it's a comforting gesture over and over again, and in a few seconds she's actually relaxed by it. "Don't think so," Haymitch reassures her, thumb rubbing a soothing circle into her skin. "Wouldn't make much sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's secret, so it'd be a waste of effort." He pauses again and winks at her, and this time Katniss actually has to fight herself in order to not return it in a grin. "More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."  
Peeta jumps in, his eyes shining, clear with his intention of cheering Katniss up. "Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway."  
"Very true!"   
Katniss purses her lips, beginning to feel her sour mood slip away. Haymitch finally removes his hand to dunk a piece of pork chop in his wine. A frown from Effie is visible beneath her heavy makeup. Haymitch is about to pop it in his mouth when he chuckles, "What were their faces like?"  
Despite herself and her previous intentions, Katniss can feel herself beginning to grin. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."  
An interesting sound meets her ears as Haymitch nearly chokes on his meat, gasping as he begins to laugh loudly. He clutches his stomach as everyone else around the table begins to join in, and Katniss catches Portia wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Effie is not laughing, but she's nursing a small smile. Katniss accidentally lets out a chuckle, covers her mouth in horror, and then decides against it and goes on laughing.  
The night continues on until the time comes for the Gamemakers to publicize the scores of the tributes. Katniss grows more and more anxious as the minutes tick on, with Caesar Flickerman's constantly, brilliantly smiling face, with each tooth pearly white down to the gum, announcing the score of each tribute. Unsuprisingly the Careers stay in the high ranges, the lowest a score of eight. Katniss can't help but feel a little bit better when a few get fives, however, knowing that at least she won't be alone when she gets that 1. For the second time that night, a warm hand steadies the finger tapping on her knee in nervous anticipation by the time they get to Thresh, the male tribute from District 11. Katniss doesn't have to look to know that it's Haymitch, and he doesn't look at her either. She wants to detest the touch but she doesn't, because it's something that her mother used to do when they were closer in Katniss's youth. A hand rested on her knee was a strangely familiar feeling. Even Gale did it sometimes.  
Peeta pulls an eight, and the entire group gives him either a thumbs-up or an approving smile. Katniss pulls her hand from Haymitch's grip to nibble on her nails, her heart pounding as fast as that Capitol train that Effie wouldn't stop ranting about. "From District 12," Caesar Flickerman says with a mischevious gleam in his eyes, "our very own Katniss Everdeen...11!"  
Silence hangs over the room for a second as Caesar's announcement sinks in. Then a squeal pitched high enough to break glass is emitted from Effie's mouth, and the room erupts in cheers and congratulations. Katniss's hands fly to her mouth, shock and wonder and incredulousness flooding her cheeks in the form of hot blush. Haymitch has a hand clapped on her shoulder, and she turns towards him, mouth gaping. "There must be a mistake. How...how could that happen?"  
Haymitch gives her that smile that makes his grey eyes look somewhat appealing. It also makes Katniss want to slap him. "Guess they liked your temper," he says, half teasing. "They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."  
Katniss raises an eyebrow. Haymitch had called her spunky from the start, and he would be the best person to talk to if you wanted to talk about Katniss's fiery demeanor and attitude. But now it sounds like Haymitch wasn't at all annoyed with it. In fact, from the way his face lit up just the slightest, Katniss could even bet that he...preferred it.  
Perhaps it was just the excitement that she pulled off an 11.

 

***

 

No one's talking at breakfast. Katniss is just about to raise what was probably her upteenth spoonful of lamb stew with rice and dried plums to her mouth when she suddenly recognizes the lack of voices, unnervingly loud over the sound of her own chewing. She quickly stuffs the spoon into her mouth, washes it down with a gulp of orange juice, and glances at Haymitch -- who, for once, appears to have not yet touched his glass of heavily spiked wine. "So, what's going on?" she asks, patting her chin with a napkin to please Effie. "You're coaching us on interiew today, right?"  
"That's right."  
Katniss shrugs. "You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time."  
Haymitch shifts in his seat, looking slightly uncomfortable as he informs her, "Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach.  
Katniss wasn't even aware there was a current approach other than looking as if she and Peeta were unseperable. "What's that?"  
"Peeta," Haymitch says with an unreadable look tossed towards the boy in question, "has asked to be coached separately."  
Katniss pauses as Haymitch's words hit her like a blow. How odd that she feels as if she has been stabbed in the back. Yes, she had always felt as if it was wrong of Haymitch to keep them together. But the fact that Peeta apparently didn't trust her enough to be coached together stung. It was another of those things where she hated herself for feeling negatively, just as she had felt when Haymitch had hurt her by neglecting her. So she did something she had long learned to do, which was wipe her face free of any emotion before anyone noticed her gloominess and shrug noncommitally. "Good," Katniss says in a hard voice, choosing to look at the bowl of fruit instead of Haymitch or Peeta. "So what's the schedule?"  
"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content. You start with Effie, Katniss."  
Brilliant. Four hours with Haymitch. Katniss isn't sure whether she's feeling unsettled or delighted. Then again, who could feel remotely pleased to be around the old drunk?

 

***

 

It's quickly clear that Katniss and Haymitch don't do very well when they're alone. Soon enough Katniss is snarling at Haymitch, who looks like he's on the verge of hitting her and the only thing keeping him from doing so is that his job is to keep her alive. "What's Peeta's approach?" Katniss asks in an attempt to come across as a caring tribute. "Or am I not allowed to ask?"  
Haymitch gives her an annoyed look. "Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor naturally. Whereas when you open your mouth, you come across more as sullen and hostile."  
Katniss grips the armrests of the couch, her nails digging into the fabric, as she burns holes into Haymitch's forehead with her eyes. "I do not!"  
"Please," snorts Haymitch, not at all irked by her glare. "I don't know where you pulled that cheery, wavy girl from the chariot from, but I haven't seen her before or since."   
How about when you called me spunky? Was that good enough for you? Katniss is about to ask those very questions, but her sharp tongue that doesn't want to appeal to Haymitch has other thoughts. "And you've given me so many reasons to be cheery."  
Haymitch crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, and suddenly Katniss can almost feel the irritation radiating off of him, the result of them being in closer proximity than she'd prefer. "But you don't have to please me. I'm not going to sponsor you," he points out. "So pretend I'm the audience. Delight me."  
"Fine!"  
Haymitch fires questions at her, and Katniss does her best to answer them in a civilizing manner. But it's futile to even try, because her anger is just smoldering too hot to allow her to be polite. Haymitch waves his hand after about ten minutes and exclaims, "All right, enough. We've got to find another angle. Not only are you hostile, I don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss."  
I'm a sixteen-year old hunter who lives with a terrified mother and a tiny little sister. I care about Prim and Gale and people who don't yell at me for being me. "But I don't want them to! They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!"  
"Then lie!" Haymitch says, his voice harsh and loud. "Make something up!"  
"I'm not good at lying," admits Katniss, feeling helpless and hopeless.  
Haymitch makes a guttural noise in his throat and rubs his temples. "Well, you better learn fast. You've got about as much charm as a dead slug."  
Katniss recoils, a tiny sound coming out of her mouth as her eyes widen. She quickly regains her cold composure, but it's too late. It's already clear that she's hurt. Badly. Somehow that comment burns so much that she's halfway to her feet when Haymitch reaches up for her quickly, hand flying to her wrist. "Here's an idea," he says quickly, his voice much softer and gentler. He eases her down and releases her, giving her an apologetic look that Katniss refuses to acknowledge. "Try acting humble."  
"Humble," echoes Katniss, unable to say anything else. There's a dignity-sized hole in her heart that's currently remending.   
Haymitch pretends not to notice as he explains, "That you can't believe a girl from District 12 has done this well. The whole thing's been more than you ever could have dreamed of. Talk about Cinna's clothes," he offers. "How nice the people are. How the city amazes you. If you won't talk about yourself, at least compliment the audience. Just keep turning it back around, all right. Gush."  
Katniss nods and takes in a deep breath. She does her best, but in by the end of the next two or three hours, her mouth and tongue are dry and they're nowhere closer to finding the correct angle for Katniss. Cocky. Fierce. Witty. Mysterious. Haymitch even tried to get her to play sexy, which was very awkward for Katniss to try, especially in front of him, who was watching and assessing her like a hawk. But no matter what they tried, nothing worked for her. She was beginning to look longfully at the bottle in Haymitch's hand that had been opened up about halfway through the personalities, because she was nobody at all by the end of the conversation. His eyes begin to redden around the edges and his voice gets sharp as he throws his hands up in exasperation. "I give up, sweetheart," he growls, running a hand through his hair. "Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them."  
"Gee, thanks, Haymitch. What a mentor." Katniss says back, even though she know it's not at all a good idea.   
"I've spent four hours on you and I've gotten nowhere," hisses Haymitch through clenched teeth. He stands up and throws the chair behind him, waving a hand at Katniss. "Look, I'm going to my room. Don't let Effie know where I am, okay?"  
And then he's gone, and Katniss is left sitting there, wondering if she should try for sexy just to spite her mentor.

 

***

 

A crash echoes through the empty hall as Katniss shoves Peeta into the urn, fuming with smoke nearly coming out of her ears. The blonde boy looks up at her, startled and in agony. "What was that for?"  
Katniss doesn't even hear the elevator open over her shouting. "You had no right," she cries. "No right to go saying those things about me!"  
Footsteps near her rapidly, and Effie's kneeling beside Peeta, horrified. "What's going on? Did you fall?"  
"After she shoved me."  
Abruptly aware of how bad the next few minutes are definitely going to be, Katniss takes a step back as Haymitch whirls around and grabs the front of her dress, pulling her towards him so quickly that she has to raise her hands and brace them against his chest, unflinching as Katniss tries to push or yank him off. "Shoved him?" he says in a dangerously low voice.  
"This was your idea, wasn't it?" spits Katniss in response, one hand strangling Haymitch's wrist in a death grip. "Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"  
"It was my idea. Haymitch just helped me with it," Peeta calls from the floor, his face pinching up as he pulls the shards of pottery from his palms.  
Katniss cranes her neck to look past the huge angry face in front of her. "Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!"  
Haymitch grabs her chin and makes her look at him, and she scowls. "You are a fool," decides Haymitch, shaking his head. Katniss hides the way her breath catches as her heart clenches tightly. The last thing she wants is for Haymitch to see her vulnerable. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."  
"He made me look weak!" Katniss yells.  
"He made you look desirable!" counters Haymitch, enunciating every syllable in the last word for effect. "And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you." Katniss, this time, cannot hide her sharp intake of breath as Haymitch insults her the third time that day, and she's tired of how her body reacts before her mind can. She really has to work on walling herself up to Haymitch's words. "Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!"  
Katniss grits her teeth. "But we're not star-crossed lovers!"  
Haymitch's hands fly to her shoulders, and suddenly Katniss finds herself being slammed against the wall, pinned in place by the man in front of her. She resists the urge to kick him just below the hips when he pushes his face towards her, their noses just barely touching. She's very aware of the fact that should he just edge forward the tiniest bit, they'd be engaged in a lip-lock. The smell of spirits wafts into her nostrils from his breath as he explodes, "Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?"  
The proximity of Haymitch's face and his strong breath is causing Katniss's stomach to do flips inside of her. She instantly gets sick and finds the strength to shove him away, stepping away from him to find clean air. Someone puts their arm around her: Cinna. "He's right, Katniss," he murmurs gently, a relief after Haymitch's outburst.  
"I should have been told," Katniss complains half-heartedly, "so I didn't look so stupid."  
"No, your reaction was perfect. If you had known, it wouldn't have read as real," Portia comforts.  
Peeta complains gruffly from the floor, "She's just worried about her boyfriend," and tosses an bloodied urn piece away.  
Katniss reddens. "I don't have a boyfriend." But she's already thinking of Gale.  
"Whatever. But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"  
Thoughts spin around in Katniss's head. About how silly and stupid she must have looked during her interview, a ditzy young girl who doesn't realize the danger she's going into. Maybe some people would have liked her well enough, finding her apparent obliviousness sweet and cute. But after Peeta...now she's as attractive as Glimmer, an object of love and desire. Then she realizes how wrong she was to react that way and how much Peeta had just done for her -- he could have very well saved her life. No, Haymitch could have very well saved her life, encouraging Peeta that where he was going was the right path. Maybe her mentor did care.  
"After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" Her voice is much softer and lower than it had been just a minute ago.  
Portia jumps in again to soothe her. "I did. The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."  
Effie begins nodding and murmuring agreement, and Cinna nods enthusiastically. Haymitch dares to near Katniss again, an abnormally gentle hand getting her to turn slightly to see him give her a smile. "You're golden, sweetheart," he says quietly, both of them very aware of the argument they just had, and Haymitch's soft words do nothing to smooth the spikes of indignation that had leapt up in Katniss's chest. But she lets him hold her in place long enough for him to finish. "You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."  
As soon as Haymitch gives her a nod that clearly meant to make up for the sharp words that had been exchanged, Katniss gives him a stiff dip of the head back and twisted out of his grip. And he lets her, watching in silence as she bends down to apologize to Peeta.

 

***

 

It's kind of funny to see Effie crying, with her makeup on the verge of smearing as she bids the two tributes goodbye. Katniss subtly rolls her eyes when she tosses in "I wouldn't be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!"  
A kiss on both's cheeks ends her involvement with them thus far, and then Effie hurries out, leaving Haymitch alone with Katniss and Peeta.  
Katniss meets his eyes steadily as he looks them over and then looks up at her, an unusual look murking around in the depths of his own. He crosses his arms and nods slowly, appearing satisfied. Thankfully he doesn't prod them, because Katniss doesn't think she'd be able to stand it again.  
"Any final words of advice?" asks Peeta, his voice a little high, possibly because of nerves.  
"When the gong sounds," Haymitch says, his voice unreadable, "get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water." He makes sure to say the last part seriously, slowly, and clearly, wanting to emphasize how serious it is. "Got it?"  
Katniss's voice sounds small. "And after that?"  
Haymitch is quiet for a few seconds. His voice is deathly emotionless and strained at the same time when he say, "Stay alive."  
Peeta nods and sticks out his hand, which Haymitch shakes after a moment of debating what the boy wanted. Then, after a look at Katniss, Peeta leaves to find Portia, and Katniss is left without something to distract her from Haymitch. She supposes she could just leave to her room now, but there seems to be something unsaid between the both of them. Haymitch senses it too, but he doesn't say anything. They linger there awkwardly until Haymitch suddenly steps forward, and Katniss tenses, ready to fend off an unwelcome hug. But all he does is raise his right hand and gingerly brush it again her neck, the rough curves of his palm rubbing against her pale neck, his thumb against her jawline. Katniss just stares straight at Haymitch, lips pursed and still. Haymitch curls his own lips in and nods at her before patting her neck one last time, and Katniss knows what he's trying to say. Good luck.   
Once again, he's gone just like that. Far too soon.

 

***

 

Many times in the arena Katniss thinks of Haymitch. Like when she's debating whether or not she should go for that tempting silver bow and its quiver, trying to convince herself that had he seen her run, he'd think highly of her and allow her to risk her neck. Unlikely. Being his best shots at Victor this year, Haymitch certainly wanted Katniss and Peeta to stay safe. Not to take risks. To stay alive. Then the timer goes off in a loud blaring alarm, and then everyone's off, sprinting in the direction of her precious weapons, and Katniss has lost it, cursing Peeta and Haymitch off in her head.

Then she's thinking of Haymitch's directions when she looks at her empty water canister. Would it have pained the Gamemakers so much that they couldn't have just filled it up halfway? Katniss tries to guess what her mentor's facial expression must be, since she knows he's watching her. Unless he's still trying to gather sponsors, in which case his sympathy would then not be available. Then again, it never was available.

Katniss briefly thinks about the act Peeta and Haymitch struck up that night in the tree, when she first finds out her supposed 'lover boy' is with the Careers. Goodness, how her heart aches. She wasn't aware that she cared enough about Peeta that it was this hard to let him go to the Careers, but she filed it down to having to kill him if it came down to it, since they're clearly not going to become allies anytime soon. She mentally swears at Haymitch, wishing he hadn't encouraged Peeta to play up to the hopelessly in love angle. It did nothing but distract her. Haymitch should've known that.

Her mind is screaming out for Haymitch the following day as she staggers through the undergrowth, trying to find a source of water. Katniss knows there had to be one besides the lake. There just had to be. "Water," she whispers hoarsely, praying that Haymitch would hear her. But even if he did, it never comes. She wants to break down, to cry, to scream out to the arena, terribly triumphant that she had been right about the addict all along, that he didn't care for her life. But then she knows that that can't be right. He's trained her, right? He's not trying to kill her. Nor has he ever been trying to kill her. There are just too many unpleasant results that could happent to the both of them if it became clear that Katniss's mentor was purposely trying to keep her dehydrated. And though there was a definite possibility that he was just drunk, Katniss found the ability to throw that circumstance away. Haymitch was trying to tell her something, wasn't he? When she really thinks about it, she realizes that she must be close enough to water for Haymitch to withhold it from her. That new realization lends her some adrenaline, and though she is very dehydrated, nauseous, and fatigued by the time she arrives, find the water she does.

Katniss can only think of the pained faces in the Capitol audience when she climbs up the tree to escape the Careers, burnt badly but fiercely against showing weakness. When night comes and she first sees Rue's glittering eyes through the leaves and discovers the tracker jacker nest, Haymitch sends her his first sign of loyalty to the cause. A parachute carrying a small plastic pot. Katniss eagerly clambers down from the branches she was perched on during the anthem, eyes wide with gratitude. She imagines Haymitch's face, and somehow a look of troubled distress on his face comes easily to picture. She sees him watching her struggle through the agony, and eventually he stands up and leaves the Capitol square that's undeniably broadcasting her right now. And now here he is, in the form of the sponsor gift. When Katniss opens the pot and dips her fingers in, immediately feeling the relief as her burns disappear upon contact, she lifts her hands and looks straight up, knowing there will be a camera noting her actions. "Oh, Haymitch," she breathes, closing her eyes as a whisper of a smile tugs at her lips. He hasn't abandoned her. He's still there for her, in the strange, horrifyingly endearing way of his own. "Thank you." And now she sees him smiling, although he hides it instantly. And Katniss doesn't mind, because she knows she'd do the same.

Of course, now he's probably hating her, groaning and rubbing his fingers on the bridge of his nose as Katniss make the decision to team up with Rue. She can't help but smirk and wink towards a bush when Rue isn't looking, a good feeling that there's a camera posted in there that had just caught what she did. She hopes Haymitch saw.

She also hopes Haymitch sees her when she's poised near the Career's treasure trove, arrow drawn to her cheek. It fires, along with two others that rip apart the apple bag and send the minefields blowing the food and supplies sky-high. It blows her backwards, too, rendering one of her ears deaf. She wonders if Haymitch would send her something to fix that, too, but she doubts it.

She knows Haymitch sees her when she sings Rue to sleep. No, Katniss knows the entire population of Panem is seeing her as the lyrics of the old lullaby leave her mouth in a choked but melodical, sing-song sob. There are definitely being tears shed as she lowers her head and lays a kiss on Rue's still forehead, the rise and fall of her chest a long ago memory. Maybe even Haymitch's eyes water when she decorates the girl from District 11 with wildflowers and then holds up the three-fingered salute: goodbye to a loved one, farewell to a friend, rest well at last dear ally. It breaks her when the mockingjay busts out Rue's melody, the one that means she's safe. Finally safe. Safe from this hell of a Hunger Games. And then Katniss turns away, crying, and she prays that Haymitch will see her home safe as well. Because something is telling her that she really wants to see him again. A piece of bread sent from him and District 11 does little to comfort her, but she finds tranquility in the fact that he was moved.

When Katniss finds Peeta at last, driven by the desire to find him after Caesar announces that they can win together, her heart twists when she hears, "You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" She doesn't know how she feels when Peeta calls her by that pet name, but she knows she's instinctively reserved it for Haymitch's use only. However Katniss doesn't understand that until later, because she has to play medic and keep this boy alive.

It's kind of scary when Peeta brings up something that had been buried underneath the stress for so long. "You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person. I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all." Katniss wrinkles her nose at the memory, although she does fight off a blush, because she silently agrees. She wonders how Haymitch is reacting, probably recieving a few odd looks from the people around him in the Capitol square, cursing Peeta for bringing that up. "What's he sent you so far?"   
"Not a thing. Why, did you get something?" Peeta asks after a pause.  
Katniss feels sheepish. "Burn medicine. Oh, and some bread.  
"I always knew you were his favorite."   
This time Katniss really does feel her ears get hotter. Haymitch is probably watching intently, waiting for Katniss's response. No doubt he expects her to say something witty and insulting towards him. But all she does is grumble, "Please, he can't stand being in the same room with me." That much is true.  
"Because you're just alike," mutters Peeta, a statement that is ignored by Katniss because she just can't muster enough energy up to insult the man. Nor is she in the mood for it, surprising her. She's always in the mood for insulting him.

She and Peeta have their first kiss that evening, resulting in a pot of broth sent from Haymitch that Katniss finds waiting outside. "You're supposed to be in love, sweetheart," Katniss can hear Haymitch say, clear as day. "The boy's dying. Give me something I can work with!" One kiss equals one pot of broth. She couldn't be more certain about anything else. What was that Peeta had said? They hate each other only because they're alike? Katniss can't help but think that that's why she can interpret these silly, trivial things like the way she's doing now. Two twin Seam souls facing the same thing at different times. Funny. Had she been born earlier, Katniss might've even been Haymitch's twin.

So Haymitch is on Katniss's side in the matter of the feast. A vial of sleep syrup proves it, and Katniss nearly throws it away before the importance of it dawns on her. She could put Peeta to sleep for about a day with this. Katniss feels like it's slightly unfair that Peeta had been gaining nothing in the arena until now, and it's unmistakable that all sponsor money has been used on Katniss. He really has chosen her.

Soon Katniss finds out that she's not quite the wizard with words as Peeta is. She tries to sound charming, but fails, and eventually Peeta presses, "If what, Katniss?"  
Katniss feels the urge to drop this topic. It's too sensitive, and she doesn't want the entire population of this continent to hear what she's wanting to say. "That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," Katniss says lightly, evasively, drawing amusement from the slam of his fist against the table Haymitch might be sitting at and the flood of profanity streaming from under his breath. Somehow, though, Peeta catches the ball she dropped and says something sweet before kissing her, and Katniss can only hope that's enough for now. Sorry, Haymitch, she thinks, not feeling at all particularly sorry. Even so, despite the kiss, nothing comes from their mentor. So Katniss decides to amp up the game -- for their sake, of course. "Peeta...you said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" That's a good start, yes.  
"Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school," suggests Peeta. "We were five." Katniss raises an eyebrow, and she knows that their audience is murmuring at Peeta's show of memory that isn't remotely finished yet. "You had on a red plaid dress and your hair...it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."  
"Your father? Why?"  
"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.'" Peeta gives her a guilty look with a little chuckle.  
Katniss is beyond blown away. "What?" she exclaims. "You're making that up!"  
Peeta laughs. "No, true story. And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?'" Another apologetic grin. "And he said, 'Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.'"  
"That's true," Katniss agrees, warming up to the idea, remembering how sweet and harmonic her father's voice was. "They do. I mean, they did."   
"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up, in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," says Peeta with a wistful look in his eyes.  
Katniss laughs self-consciously. "Oh, please."  
"No, it happened," promises Peeta. "And right when your song ended, I knew -- just like your mother -- I was a goner. Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you."  
"Without success."  
"Without success," Peeta nods enthusiastically. "So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck."  
For just one second, a genuine surge of affection and happiness washes over Katniss. Then she pushes away from it, afraid. They're not supposed to feel like this for real. She -- she's not supposed to feel like this for real. It's a game, it's a TV show, it's not real. And there are too many things she has to decide and mend before she can truly fall for Peeta the way he likes her. And she's nearly certain that he's not playing the game she is. Haymitch is studying the screen he's watching intently. How will you play this, sweetheart? "You have...a remarkable memory," is all she can say.  
"I remember everything about you." Peeta's voice is low, affectionate, kind, and Katniss's heart is close to melting. She has to take a deep breath to keep her mind, especially when he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention."  
"I am now," Katniss says just as quietly.  
"Well, I don't have much competition here."  
The words are probably in Katniss's head before the last word is completely spoken. And no doubt they're in Haymitch's head too, because Katniss can hear his voice urging her on in her head. "Say it, say it," insists Haymitch's voice. And Katniss does, leaning forward first as she whispers, "You don't have much competition anywhere."  
A second later, when a parachute lands with something new, which Katniss finds to be a pot of broth, Haymitch's next message was the clearest yet.  
"Yes, that's what I'm looking for, sweetheart."

The conversation picks up after supper that night. "So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?"  
Peeta shrugs, "No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you."  
"I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam," teases Katniss, mostly thinking of that witch, his poor excuse for a mother.   
"Hardly," agrees Peeta, grinning crookedly. "But I couldn't care less. Anyway, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from the Victor's Village."  
Katniss allows herself a breezy smile before frowning as a thought crosses her mind. Of course it's about Haymitch. "But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!"  
"Ah, that'll be nice," Peeta says a little too dreamily for Katniss to enjoy. She's reminded of the morning after Peeta washed Haymitch and how that unexpected stab of envy had poked her chest. But she continues to listen, face alert and relaxed. "You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales."  
Katniss is sure that Haymitch is reacting exactly the way she is. "I told you, he hates me!" she exclaims, laughing.  
"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you."  
"He's never sober!" Katniss retorts, ducking to hide the redness on her neck.  
"That's right. Who am I thinking of? Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you," Peeta says. "But that's mainly because you didn't try to run when he set you on fire. On the other hand, Haymitch...well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you."  
Katniss could have told Peeta that. "I thought you said I was his favorite," she says, beginning to get confused.  
"He hates me more. I don't think people in general are his sort of thing."  
Katniss and Peeta lapse into a comfortable silence, allowing her time to think. She knows that Haymitch is probably getting a lot of attention right now, since the cameras are definitely focused on their entertaining conversation. He's a well-known face, especially around the Capitol, with his Victor status and the little stunt with the falling-off-the-stage combined. Katniss even dares to think he's got friends in the crowd. But she has to wonder how he can do it -- having to be ready at a moment's notice for an interview or to leap to Katniss's or Peeta's aid if he can spare the money, dealing with the stress of watching his two tributes surviving in the arena, the attention that he can't possibly be used to. Is it the drinking? It must be, but it's not a permanent solution.  
As Katniss is reviewing the last day's events, with her understanding of Haymitch's actions and her ability to read betwen the lines when it came to him, she began to wonder deeply about Haymitch's personal life for the first time. A question long overdue hits her. "How do you think he did it?" wonders Katniss out of the blue.  
Peeta looks startled. "Who? Did what?"  
"Haymitch," says Katniss, furrowing her brow. "How do you think he won the Games?"  
Peeta's face falls into a thoughtful one as he considers the possibilities. Katniss does the same, trying to pull a full-body image of Haymitch. Shockingly it doesn't take very much effort. He's fit, built, and most likely athletic -- at least back then -- enough to hold his own, but he's no Cato or Thresh. He couldn't have won with his physical ability and prowess. As for sponsors, Katniss knows for sure that Haymitch isn't the worst looking man in District 12, not at all, but he's not so appealing to have people drooling over his image, fighting to send him gifts. What did that leave?  
His brains.  
"He outsmarted the others," Peeta says just as suddenly as Katniss thinks of the only possible solution. She nods and stays quiet, finding herself sympathizing with Haymitch. She has no doubt that some days, he wishes he was dead. In fact, Katniss finds it a wonder that he hasn't killed himself yet. He couldn't have always been a drunk. Maybe he did, at one point, put in 100% of his effort into training his tributes, but it would easily become pointless after watching them die no matter how hard he tried. So he resorted to liquor and spirits, to distract him from his failure. Year after year he tried and failed until the point that he just gave up. Katniss and Peeta must be the first in years to show actual promise. And where does that train of thought leave Katniss?   
It drops her off at the conclusion that she musn't let Haymitch down.

The arena seems to be holding its breath. The bow is drawn back with an arrow fit tightly to the string, aimed at Peeta's heart. The blond baker's eyes are as wide as golfballs, and his mouth is parted slightly, trying to hide how hard he is breathing.  
Katniss is panting, her face burning in shame. She wants to throw the weapons away but she can't, her survival instincts flaring up and refusing to die down. Questions pound against her temple like a bitter whirlwind. Is this it? Is this how it ends? Katniss, the Girl on Fire, shoots down her one and only love? How will District 12 react? How with the Capitol react? How will -- how will Haymitch react? What will he think? Does he want her to release the arrow? Or does he want her to drop it? Does he want her to kill Peeta? Will he shun Katniss if she comes home by herself? Will he be angry? Proud? Victorious? Heartbroken? Why does their relationship even matter? Is he even watching right now? Does he care? What does Haymitch want? What does Katniss want? Does she really want to kill him or does she want him to live? Does she love him? Does --  
She bites down on her bottom lip and squeezes her eyes shut, feeling a tear trickling down her cheek as she halts the barrage of endless questions by hurling the bow to the ground. Peeta had just thrown his knife into the lake. Katniss has no right to do what she was about to do. But Peeta thinks otherwise, protesting, "No. Do it." He takes the bow and tries to give it back to Katniss.  
"I can't. I won't," counters Katniss, her voice rising.  
Peeta's tone hardens, but she can hear the undertone of fear. "Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato."  
That in itself is almost enough for Katniss to work up the nerve to draw another arrow, but she just can't. "Then you shoot me," she says, thrusting the weapons into Peeta's hands. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" She's near tears again, but truth be told, she wants to die. And that's when she knows it to be true: when you're reaped, you're better off sticking a knife into your body yourself. Death is the best outcome when you enter this arena, President Snow's personal hell.  
Peeta sighs. "You know I can't. Fine, I'll go first anyway." He proceeds to rip the bandage off his leg wound, uncorking the rest of the deep crimson waterfall that immediately gushes down his thigh and calves.  
"No," Katniss gasps, horrified. Automatically she drops to her knees and tries to plaster the bandage back onto his leg, patting unsuccessfully as she attempts to secure it again. "You can't kill yourself!"  
"Katniss. It's what I want."  
"You're not leaving me here alone," chokes Katniss, sounding far too sad and small and helpless. It's not her voice that comes out. Not the fearless hunter that she'd lived her life with Gale as. What's happening to her?  
"Listen," Peeta says, pulling her to her feet. Suddenly he sounds like Haymitch. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me." Katniss zones out, not even hearing about how he goes through the motions of speaking of sarifice, saying he loves her too much to see her go, that his life would be meaningless without her, but her mind is already thinking of a plan. The Gamemakers and Snow rely on a victor. But what if Katniss forced them to choose? What if they were threatened with the possibility that for the first time ever in seventy-four years, this Hunger Games would not have a victor?  
Slowly Katniss reaches for the pouch on her belt, opening it clumsily to reach into its lethal contents of deathberries. Peeta understands what she means to do instantly, or, at least half of it. "No, I won't let you," he argues, clamping a hand down on her wrist.  
"Trust me," mumbles Katniss, pulling out a handful of the reddish-violet berries. She drops a few into his hand and locks eyes with him, whispering, "On the count of three?"  
Peeta kisses her, slowly, gently. "The count of three."  
They stand up with their backs pressed together, their free hands claspd tightly. "Hold them out," Peeta tells her. "I want everyone to see."  
With a shaky hand, Katniss holds out the glistening berries, the leaking juices of them staining her hands in a manner that reminds her of blood. A shiver runs down her spine as she says, "One."  
She's terrified. Peeta's terrified too, she knows it. But it does nothing to help her. Katniss tries to hide it, put on a charade of bravado, be strong. Maybe they won't do anything. Maybe Snow doesn't care as much as she thinks. Maybe this really is it.  
"Two."  
Her nerves increase in panic. There's no sign of any change. She holds onto the hope that the Gamemakers think they're bluffing, that they wouldn't go through with this. But they are, and Katniss begins to tremble as she lifts the berries to her mouth. Assuming it'd be her last coherent thought, she searches for a comforting memory. Maybe of Prim, or Gale, or even of her father. However, the face that comes to mind is Haymitch, standing before her, the last time she saw him. Hand on her neck, warmth spreading through her body. How awful that it took her this long to realize how much she longed to feel some sort of safety, the kind that only Haymitch could give her despite his broken appearance. And Katniss relaxes, knowing that right now, even if nothing changed, she'd be safe no matter the outcome. At peace. Finally at rest, if she died right here, right now. And she was okay with that.  
"Three."  
She and Peeta tilt their heads back and drop the berries past their lips, and the instant the poisonous balls tip into their mouths, Caesar's frantic voice blares through the speakers. "Stop!" he cries. "Stop! Ladies and gentleman, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you -- the tributes of District Twelve!"

 

***

 

It takes a few tries before Katniss is able to wake up completely. She groggily opens her eyes, the feeling of waking up safely and healthily without any sort of deadly threat nipping at her heels foreign to her. Where there was once a needle injected into her arm that sent some kind of liquid -- maybe morphling, maybe just something to keep her alive and unconscious -- steadily flowing into her bloodstream, there was now nothing. The restraining band that had originally been strapped around her waist was no longer there, and Katniss gets the feeling that she was now given the privilege to move freely on her own.  
It takes only one look to discover that all of her wounds, both from her time in the arena and days of her childhood long past, have vanished. Her skin is glowing like gold, no doubt treated by an incredible amount of Capitol medicine and good old TLC. Her muscles are rejuvenated, and Katniss isn't too surprised that she's steady on her feet when she swings her bare legs over the side of the bed and stands up. She's wearing a very thin robe over an otherwise naked body, but that's no surprise at this point. Still, Katniss gladly picks up the outfit set at the foot of the bed for her, although she cringes a little when she finds that it's a crisp, clean replica of the clothes that the tributes wore.  
She changes, her mind distracted. The Avox girl had visited sometime during her rapid, short moments of consciousness, and Katniss had confirmed that Peeta was alive and somewhere in the vicinity. It is a relief to release that burden from her chest, but just as quickly, her heart constricts when she thinks of someone else. What of Haymitch? Or Effie or Cinna or Portia, for that matter? Were they here to welcome her? To talk to her? To congratualate her?  
Katniss steps into a wide empty hall, seemingly devoid of visible doors. Because her door was invisible to her until she stepped in front of it and it suddenly opened, she's sure that there are in fact doors lining the corridor that are simply hidden from her. So she calls out, "Peeta!" Her voice is strong but anxious, and she repeats his name again.  
Someone answers, but it's not the voice she's hoping for. It's Effie, excitedly saying her name. It invokes a little annoyance at first but then it becomes a ball of eagerness in her gut, and Katniss grins at the prospect of seeing someone friendly and familiar.  
Effie's voice came from behind her, so she spins around, seeing a big chamber at the end of the hall. Inside are three faces of varying approval. Cinna, Effie...and Haymitch. And his face is brighter than Katniss has ever seen it.  
Her feet fly over the floor before she even has control over her own body, and she crosses the hallway in what seems like two strides before she's at the chamber, nearly sobbing with relief and gratitude and humbleness and thanks and fear and trauma and anxiety all at the same time. The knowledge that she's probably being recorded right now nags at the back of her mind, but she doesn't care, as stupid and immature as what she's doing now may seem. Katniss is launching herself off the floor, vaulting into a pair of outstretched arms. Haymitch's arms.  
And then he's hugging her tightly, rocking her back and forth as Katniss sobs softly on his shoulder. She isn't aware of making a conscious choice to embrace him, but what's done is done, and she's not fighting it. One of Haymitch's hands is tangled in her hair, petting the loose brown waves gently. His other hand clasps the small of her back, pressing her into his torso, rubbing the tense muscles that slowly ease up. The hand on her head helps her find a place to settle her face, nestling it into the crook of his bare neck. Katniss inhales deeply, shocked when she smells proper Capitol cologne on his skin instead of alcohol. Her arrival must mean a lot to Haymitch for him to fancy and steer clear of his liquor for it.   
She's practically strangling Haymitch when he leans forward, his breath tickling her ear. "Nice job, sweetheart," is all he whispers, sounding more than 100% genuine. Katniss just squeezes him tighter, her tears beginning to clear. The moment is just so sweet, so alien, so alarmingly wonderful that she doesn't want to let go of him, but she does, the rational part of her tearing her arms away from the man. She sees Haymitch smiling lopsidedly, and he even winks.  
Katniss looks up to see Effie, her eyes tearing up and her hands stroking Katniss's hair like a lost puppy. She's giving everyone a respite of her comment about how coal under pressure turns to pearls, a statement not even remotely correct. Finally Cinna is able to capture Katniss in a hug of his own, and she is unable to stop herself from comparing his tight hug to Haymitch's. But it's nice, because her stylist means a lot to her. He has done nearly as much as Haymitch has done, because they've both gotten her sponsors in their own ways. Haymitch could very well be Cinna in another universe, one where God didn't bless him with his sharp tongue, typically harsh wit, and excessive drinking habit.  
"Where's Portia?" Katniss blurts after realizing that while her stylist was here, Peeta's wasn't. "Is she with Peeta? He is all right, isn't he? I mean, he's alive?"  
"He's fine," Haymitch assures. "Only they want to do your reunion live on air at the ceremony."  
"Oh. That's all." Katniss is released by Cinna to stand up straight, and she looks at Effie and everyone else appreciatively. "I guess I'd want to see that myself."  
Haymitch is still staring at her, an unusual emotion sparkling in his eyes. Pride? "Go on with Cinna. He has to get you ready," Haymitch tells her, gesturing for her to go on. Even though neither of them are quite ready to. The moment was over a long time ago, though, Katniss has to remind herself.

 

***

 

Everything smells like sawdust and fresh paint. Katniss is standing in a simple golden dress, innocent and young. She's curious to figure out Cinna's intentions, but she can't think over the roaring of the crowd. She is a little disturbed by the padding curving around her breasts. Cinna tells her that Haymitch had apparently had a huge fight with the Capitol, trying to keep them from 'surgically altering' her chest. It made her grateful to him, although she must admit that she's a little embarrassed that, in other, stranger words, he had fought over her body. To keep its natural structure, she adds quickly, wincing.  
As if the thought has summoned him, someone taps her shoulder, and Katniss whirls around, eyes alert and startled. Haymitch is standing there, hands held up with his palms towards her defensively. "Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you," he urges with a strangely sweet smile. Katniss turns once, arms outstretched for maximum view. Haymitch nods, more interested in her dress than her herself, which makes her feel less weird. "Good enough," he murmurs with a slight frown.  
Katniss frowns. She had expected more of a compliment, all things considered. "But what?"  
Even in the poorly lit area, it's easy to see Haymitch's eyes dart around the musty holding space. He seems to make a quick decision, and he nonchalantly shrugs, "But nothing." He hesitates and then holds out his arms. "How about a hug for luck?"  
Katniss is shocked into momentary paralyzation. Why was he asking for a hug? She admittedly wanted to hold out the moment she had shared with him earlier for just a few seconds more, but it was very surprising that Haymitch would. But maybe a hug for luck was only right. They did, after all, share the name of Victor. And Katniss wasn't one to turn down something she wanted already. So she leans into Haymitch's outstretched arms, wrapping her own around his neck, and presses her head into his shoulder...  
Only to feel his arms tighten like an iron brace around her torso. And Katniss knew what that felt like from experience. It's clear he doesn't want her to go anytime soon, and her alarmed, unspoken question is answered before she can ask it. Haymitch pushes his head into her hair, against the side of her own face, concealing the front of it with Katniss's mildly thick locks. His lips brush against her ear, causing a shudder to run down her back, as he breathes very quickly, "Listen up. You're in trouble. Word is the Capitol's furious with you about showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem."  
Dread is coursing through her veins, and her mind is reeling from the implication of how much trouble she's currently in. But Katniss is able to maintain enough of her logical mind to giggle in delight, since she'd bet her life the place is bugged and nothing's concealing her mouth. While laughing, she's able to fit in "So, what?"  
"Your only defense," answers Haymitch, "can be you were so madly in love you weren't responsible for your actions." He pulls back, stirring a small pot of disappointment in Katniss's stomach, and manages to pull a convincing grin. He fixes her hairband, and Katniss is temporarily distracted by the looming problem by the closeness of their bodies. "Got it, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks loosely. It was an innocent question that could be tied to anything.  
"Got it. Did you tell Peeta this?" Katniss is very careful about her words.  
"Don't have to. He's already there."  
Katniss fiddles with the bright red bow tie Cinna had somehow managed to wrestle onto him, her face bright red but most likely hidden by the lack of light. "But you think I'm not?"  
Haymitch's fingers enclose her chin lightly, tenderly tilting her head up. Katniss feels her neck shift as she swallows a bit. "Since when does it matter what I think?" Haymitch questions with a mischevious smirk on his face, a hint of brushed teeth just barely visible. Katniss allows herself to return it, relieved to be beginning to slip back into their old, sarcastic routine. Gentle, touchy Haymitch wasn't at all something she disliked, but for now she'd prefer one that drank and provided an argument and someone to yell at. But Haymitch wasn't done with his soft side quite yet. "Better get to our places. This is your night, sweetheart," Haymitch fondly reminds Katniss as he guides her to the metal circle. He guides her face up to him one last time as he says, "Enjoy it."  
Then he leans forward, and Katniss stiffens as his rough lips press against her forehead. If he had done this the first day they met, Katniss would have probably shoved him away in disgust. But now, with everything that had passed between them and even more to come, she stands there obediently, her fingers dancing along the arms connected to the hands on the back of her neck and shoulder. Haymitch holds her affectionately as he keeps his lips against her skin, a gesture so similar to a growing love that Katniss could probably convince her mind that Peeta was standing in front of her rather than him. The kiss lasts a few more seconds than it probably should have, but Haymitch pulls away before it becomes too awkward and a situation that required words. Katniss immediately drops her own hands, and Haymitch stands back. He fixes her with one last lingering look, unreadable like always, and then turns and disappears into the gloom.  
As Katniss begins to raise into the stage, she finds she's quite relaxed and at ease. It's impossible to ignore the burning nervousness in her limbs and gut, but it's faint, at least for the few seconds that seem to last an eternity. She's in trouble, all right, but Katniss isn't worried. Not yet. Because she knows that she's got someone who cares about her.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was just going to have one really long Aberdeen 'oneshot', with all the Haymitch/Katniss scenes in the entire series. But then I'm like, well, people should have something to read first and decide if they like how it's written and where it's going. Also, this got really really really long as I wrote it, so there's also that. So have this while you wait for the next two, which I plan to have both posted in the next week or two, hopefully sooner (babysitting my younger sister -- and I say 'babysitting' as if I actually am -- is a huge factor to whether I can write or not). Hopefully there were people like me who were wishing for a new view on Suzanne's series, and hopefully my writing style resembles hers to an extent. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
